


Let Me Hold Both Your Hands (In the Holes of My Sweater)

by jostens_pitch



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Set at Watford, Set during 6th Year, and in a more cheesy way, baz has too many sweaters, but not really, just a very sweet and cute story, slight angst, so why not give them to simon ?, technically a holiday fic, where they get together sooner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jostens_pitch/pseuds/jostens_pitch
Summary: Maybe I drank too deeply tonight and I’m hallucinating. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’ve died and have trapped myself in some fucked up purgatory.Whatever the explanation may be, Simon Snow is wearing a Watford football jumper.MyWatford football jumper.oran au set during sixth year where baz catches simon wearing one of his jumpers and finds out that his smell calms simon down.wanting to see how far this will go, baz begins leaving his jumpers out for simon to wear and they begin a dangerous game with unspoken rules and hidden feelings.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 77
Kudos: 331





	1. All I Am is a Man

**Author's Note:**

> hello loves ! this fic was requested on my tumblr and [inspired](https://jostens-pitch.tumblr.com/post/635060451530670080/34) by a prompts list i did.
> 
> i adored writing this as its been a while since i last wrote snowbaz, so i hope you enjoy <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> simon is stressed and baz smells nice.

**SIMON**

I wake up to the smell of bergamot and cedar as warmth surrounds me. 

The smell circles around me and caresses my face as a gentle awakening; I feel myself start to smile. Opening my eyes, I see Baz combing his hair back and his tie is hanging loosely around his neck. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower, which would explain the smell of his shampoo and the warmth from the shower’s steam. 

Baz sees me staring at him in the mirror and scrowls. “You’ll be late, Snow.” 

I glance at the clock next to my bed and curse. He’s right, if I don’t leave in five minutes I’ll be late to breakfast with Penelope. 

While rushing to meet Penny, I spot Agatha. She’s standing against a pillar in the dining hall, scanning the room with an elegant pout. I know she’s looking for me, she always is these days, but this morning all I want to do is eat my buttered scones and talk to Penny about the hares. 

The Mage gave us the task of finding six magical hares and refused to tell us why, but Penelope and I have managed to find four of them and we’ve made fast progress. These last few weeks, however, we’ve been stuck on the fifth hare due to Agatha’s constant interruptions. 

I quickly grab a plate and pile a stack of steaming biscuits onto it, using the stack to cover my face as I rush over to where Penny is sitting. I set my plate down with a thud, which sends the stack tumbling onto the table and knocks against Penelope’s tea.

Penny gasps as the warm liquid splatters against her sleeves and soaks the biscuits now scattered across the table. She opens her mouth to tell me off, but closes it once she sees my panicked expression as I point to where Agatha is. 

“You know she’s taken an interest in you, right?” Penny asks as she spells away the spilled tea and rolls her eyes. 

I watch Agatha look around the hall one last time before seemingly giving up and leaving. “We don’t know that,” I sigh, beginning to help clean up the mess. 

Penny gives me a look and I know how ridiculous I must sound. It’s clear that Agatha has started to fancy me, anyone could tell you that. She’s started to apply lip gloss whenever she knows I’m watching, she ruffles my hair whenever she sees me, and lately whenever we’re speaking she grabs my hands and plays with my fingers. The most obvious sign though has been her newfound jealousy of Penelope and I, much to Penny’s disdain. 

“I don’t see why you try to deny it. You’ve fancied her since first year, Simon; you should be happy she’s finally reciprocating the feelings.” Penny points out. 

I sigh again at her words. She’s right, I’ve dreamed about Agatha finally becoming mine for as long as I can remember. With her pretty blonde hair and doe-eyed pout, it’s hard to not fall in love with her. She’s as beautiful as she is lovely and every boy at Watford would kill to be in my position right now. I know I’m lucky, but I’ve never felt so trapped before. 

It’s not that I don’t desire Agatha or that I don’t like her. I do, but the idea of talking to her about her feelings for me makes me feel nauseous. It’s not something that I particularly want to do, especially so early in the morning. 

I pick up another scone and place a glob of butter on it before throwing it into my mouth. “She makes me nervous,” I say in between bites, “is that bad?” 

Penelope thinks for a moment before saying, “I suppose not.” 

And that’s the end of our discussion. 

I spend the rest of the day avoiding Agatha at every cost. I duck behind every desk, every student, and every stack of textbooks I can find all to hide from her. I know it’s pathetic and mean, but with so much on my mind due to the hares I can’t afford any more distractions. 

My feelings for her were complicated lately. I used to swoon whenever she looked at me, now I simply stare back at her and feel nothing. The idea of us becoming the golden couple everyone has imagined us to be suddenly fills me with dread. I know it’d be better to communicate this with Agatha, but it would kill me to see her so disappointed; especially because I was so in love with her up until now. 

There’s no easy way to tell someone that after five years of yearning for them: you suddenly no longer want them. I’m not even fully sure I _don’t_ want to be with Agatha, but right now my head is too full to really think about it. 

Feelings have never been something I was good at. 

I manage to avoid Agatha until dinner when she catches me as I’m piling my plate full of roast beef. She slides in next to the seat Penny usually sits in and bumps her shoulder against mine. I startle, dropping a few slivers of roast and spilling some gravy. 

Agatha ignores the mess and instead turns to face me. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you all day!” 

“O-oh, well. Here I am.” I want to hit myself for how scared I sound. 

“Are you all right?” Agatha frowns. 

I manage to force a smile upon my face. “I’m fine, you just scared me.” 

“I didn’t mean to, I was just excited that this seat was finally open. Penelope is always sitting here so I’ve never gotten the chance to be next to you.” 

“Penny’s still in her room-” 

“So we’re alone?” Agatha cuts me off. 

I pause, suddenly feeling very cold and panicky. “Y-yeah, I guess so.” 

Agatha scoots closer to me until we’re pressed shoulder to shoulder and our thighs are touching. This close together, I can smell her rose scented perfume and her lavender shampoo and I can see that her eyes are a warm ember in this lighting. 

She’s so lovely. 

I hate that her loveliness has become the source of my dread. 

“Good, because I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Agatha ducks her head down a bit and a lovely rosey blush paints her fair cheeks. 

I can feel my heart stop and all that I can think about is running. I know what Agatha wants to talk to me about, and I know that my responses will crush her. In the midst of my panic I feel my magic begin to rise within me and I know that I need to leave. Immediately. 

I stuff my mouth with some roast and manage to push a coherent excuse out of my mouth for Agatha before fleeing the dining hall. 

_This is all too much,_ I think as I run to my room. _You’re a horrible person. No wonder you can’t find the hares and complete the mission._

“Shut up,” I growl at myself, shaking my head violently as I near the dorms. 

When I get to my room I still feel heavy with magic. I can feel it fill inside of me and begin to spill over in warm streams, making my fingertips buzz with electricity. I scan the room for something that can calm me down, something that I know would settle my nerves and smother the magic inside of me. Suddenly, my eyes land on one of Baz’s jumpers folded neatly on top of his bed. 

I think back to this morning when his smell made me wake up feeling as if I was floating. For a brief moment the smell lulled me into a safe and soothing world where I wasn’t the Chosen One and Baz didn’t hate me. Before I can think about the consequences or implications, I grab his jumper and put it on. Instantly the smell settles my nerves and I can feel my magic begin to slowly drain out of me. 

Once I’m sure I’m no longer in danger of going off, I allow myself to fall into my bed. I take a few deep breaths, each one filling my brain with bergamot and cedar, and wrap my arms around myself. Baz’s jumper is warm, slightly bigger than mine, and I can’t help but feel like I’m being held. It’s a nice feeling, one that I’m not too eager to get rid of quite yet. 

I bask in the feeling for a few moments before getting up and going to my desk. Since I skipped out on dinner so early, I figure I might as well start my homework now, or maybe look for the remaining hares, maybe even study for an upcoming test. With everything that’s been going on lately, I’ve fallen behind in school (more than usual). 

Anything to get my mind off of Agatha and this horrible day. 

**BAZ**

Maybe I drank too deeply tonight and I’m hallucinating. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’ve died and have trapped myself in some fucked up purgatory. 

Whatever the explanation may be, Simon Snow is wearing a Watford football jumper. 

_My_ Watford football jumper. 

He’s sitting at his desk, hunched over doing schoolwork, and the _Pitch_ is written clear as day across his back. It’s a sight to be seen, the Chosen One wearing a jumper with _Pitch_ branding him. For a moment I feel faint. 

Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life. 

A large part of me wants to just stand in the doorway and admire the sight before me, memorizing the way the white lettering of _Pitch_ stretches over Simon’s broad shoulders, but I know I can’t. I clear my throat and make sure I’m calm enough before I speak. 

“Snow,” my voice cracks a bit and Simon whips around in his seat, “why are you wearing my jumper?” 

Simon practically falls in his haste to stand up. He looks up at me and then down at the jumper a few times, processing the situation, before his eyes go wide and he frantically rips the jumper off of him. I watch as it falls to the ground and I feel myself frown at the sight. 

“S-sorry!” Simon manages to say in between his rushed stuttering and jumbled words. 

I stare at him, waiting for some kind of reason that could justify Simon Snow wearing my jumper. We have an unspoken rule to never touch each other’s belongings and to never cross any lines that may lie before us. It’s been this way since the day we met, and it’s been my one source of sanity since last year. 

“Snow,” I say, urging him to hurry up and explain. Had this been a different situation, I would have found humor in the way his eyes fill with panic and his cheeks flush from embarrassment. It’s not often that I get him this riled up over a few simple words. 

Simon sighs and his shoulders drop, “It’s just… it smelled like you?” 

I feel my heart jump at those words. Did he just- 

“I know how weird that sounds, I’m so sorry. You just- you smell really… good? Shit, that sounds even weirder. It’s just that I was really overwhelmed and your scent is strangely calming to me and - you know what? I’ll just gather my things and leave you alone.” Before I can stop him, Simon grabs what he was working on and leaves. 

“Simon Snow,” I whisper to the empty room, “you will be the death of me.” 

I don’t allow myself to think of why the way I smell affects Simon so much, or why he felt that my smell alone could calm him down enough. I don’t allow myself to believe that this means anything. I know it doesn’t mean anything, at least not in the way I want it to. 

This was just a one time thing and I know I’m lucky to have witnessed it at all, but I’m weak. 

I go to bed smiling with a warm feeling inside of my chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading ! i have a few of the chapters already done and im uploading every friday until christmas (since their timeline fits ours hehe). 
> 
> also this fic is loosely inspired by the song [sweater weather](https://open.spotify.com/track/2QjOHCTQ1Jl3zawyYOpxh6?si=G8_R6zODTx2QOAwz-5biyA), so the title and chapters are from the lyrics !
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated and make me so very happy :)


	2. I Want the World in My Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> simon is a mess but baz has a plan.

**BAZ**

I don’t see Simon when I wake up this morning. His bed is empty, looking the same as it did yesterday. He must have never returned after last night. 

I give myself a few moments to wallow in self pity before I get up and ready for the day. I do my usual routine, showering and dressing myself, all while my mind is transfixed upon Simon Snow (more so than usual). 

The events of last night have left me shaken in ways I can’t explain. I’ve always been the type to need answers, as I’ve never liked the unknown, so the mystery behind Simon and my scent is all I can think about as I get ready. 

What set him off yesterday that caused him to be so overwhelmed? Why is my scent the only thing capable of calming him down? When did he discover that it did? What exactly does it all _mean?_

I pull out my clothes from my drawer, and underneath the red uniform I find an old jumper of mine. I don’t remember packing it; I pick it up and examine it. It’s a little worn and slightly too big for me and its dusty pale blue color is fading, but it’s perfect for the idea that comes into my head. 

Setting the jumper down, I finish getting ready and calculate all the details of my plan. 

Simon’s been more down recently and his face has shown the weight of his responsibilities more than it usually does. I know the Mage has tasked him with that bloody quest to find the hares, but it’s clear that there’s something else weighing on him as well. 

I’ve noticed his tired eyes and tense jaw, I’ve seen the way his anxiety has worsened and rendered him unable to get his work done due to it. It’s obvious that Simon desperately needs a break or some semblance of peace to grace him. Last night was the first time in weeks that I’ve seen him so at ease. 

Knowing that I played such a major part in creating a safe haven for Simon makes my skin warm. It’s a pleasant feeling, knowing you’re the umbrella for someone’s rainy day. 

I dig around through my wardrobe and dressers and find as many of my jumpers as I can. 

Once I’m finished, I grab the pale blue jumper and fold it neatly before placing it on Simon’s bed. I make sure it doesn’t look like a possible trap (Simon’s paranoia of me is annoying). If my jumpers really bring Simon so much peace, then he’ll take the ones I’m offering and wear them without complaints. 

At least this time I’m giving him permission to do so. 

**SIMON**

I spend the night in the dining hall. 

When Penny finds me curled on top of the table wearing the same uniform from yesterday, she simply sighs and strokes my cheek with fondness in her eyes before getting us tea. I’ve always loved how she never questions the things I do. 

After spending another day avoiding Agatha (and this time Baz), I reluctantly return to my room. If I didn’t feel the intense need to shower and change my clothes, I’d spend the entire rest of the evening in the dining hall doing homework before falling asleep on the table again. However, I know I can’t avoid the room forever. 

The room is empty when I enter. I glance at the foot of Baz’s bed and see that his cleats are gone, so he must be at football practice. I let out a breath of relief and drop my things onto my desk before heading into the bathroom to shower. 

I undress and turn on the shower before stepping into the warm water, letting the steam wrap around me and lessen the tension in my body. The rhythm of the water droplets hitting my skin creates a soothing sensation and I can feel my brain melt. 

I bask in the serenity of the shower until my fingers become pruny and the steam forms a thick cloud before me. Here, my brain quiets with the guilt of Agatha and the worries of the hares and what might happen if I never find them. There’s no voice inside my head telling me that I’m a failure or the worst Chosen One in history. 

Sighing, I rinse the remainder of the soap off of my body and turn the water off. I reach for my towel and dry myself, wrapping it around my waist and stepping out of the bathroom. I pause at the doorway, making sure the room is still empty, and head over to my dresser. 

That’s when I spot the jumper. 

It seems innocent enough, a pretty blue and folded pristinely utop of my bed, but I still freeze when I see it. A number of thoughts fly through my head, but the main one is that this jumper is Baz’s; it has to be his. When I come to Watford at the beginning of every year, all I pack are the clothes I wear on the way over. 

This jumper is Baz’s and it’s laying on top of my bed as an offering. 

Baz Pitch is giving me one of his jumpers. 

My cheeks flush at the idea of wearing his clothes again and I can feel my body begin to buzz with excitement. I take a deep breath and force myself to get dressed, throwing on a sleepshirt and sweats before cautiously walking over to the jumper. 

I hold it between my fingers before carefully holding in with both of my hands. It’s extremely fucking soft and the smell of bergamot and cedar is especially stong. I’ve never seen Baz wearing this jumper, and from the way the fabric is thinning and the color is faded, I know it’s an old one. It must’ve been stuffed in one of his drawers, which would explain the intensity of his scent. 

Glancing at my clock, I see that Baz’s practice is ending in about an hour. I look at the jumper in my hands and then at the pile of schoolwork I still need to catch up on; I can feel the familiar weight of my anxiety growing inside of my chest. 

I’m already putting the jumper on before I can fully process anything else. It’s warm and big on me and soft enough that I think I might cry. Baz’s scent creates a blanket over my brain and I immediately feel at home. 

Inhaling his smell again, I sit down at my desk and begin my work. 

**BAZ**

When I return to my room after practice I see Simon sitting at his desk like the night before, only this time he isn’t wearing my jumper. I feel disappointment run through my exhausted body until I inspect him closer. 

Simon’s hair is disheveled and sticking up at odd ends, almost as if someone has rubbed a cloth over it repeatedly until the static has made it stick up. His shirt is rumpled, more so than usual, and his breathing is slightly heavy as if he had just gotten up. 

“Snow,” I greet him, squinting my eyes to make sense of his appearance. 

Simon turns to face me with a sheepish look on his face. He’s always been so horrible at maintaining a poker face; his face is an open book that I’ve never been able to put down. I know how to read him and every microexpression that’s crossed his face. 

“Baz.” 

I stare at him a moment longer, unsure of what to make of this. Simon’s voice is normal, yet his face couldn’t look guiltier even if he tried. He notices my staring and shifts his body away uncertainly, looking down at his lap and then placing his hands over his thighs. 

The movement is peculiar enough to catch my attention, and as Simon shifts I see a flash of blue over his grey sweats. 

I swiftly turn around and grab my night clothes and walk into the bathroom to shower. My body is sore from practice and my head is killing me, but if I don’t distance myself from Simon I may actually kiss him. 

The fucker was wearing my jumper and took it off right before I entered the room. He accepted what I had given him and now if I don’t kiss him I’ll die. 

Merlin and Morgana, _this_ is purgatory. 

**SIMON**

The next day there’s another jumper laying on top of my bed. 

It’s folded like the blue one was, but this one is a pretty gold color that looks newer. Its fabric is one of a higher quality and when I put it on the smell of bergamot isn’t as strong, yet I don’t take it off until I hear Baz’s footsteps approaching our room later that night. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Baz leaves me a series of jumpers. By the end of November I’ve collected a total of seven of them, each one unique and different (yet the same smell of bergamot and cedar is soaked into them). 

I didn’t even know Baz _had_ this many jumpers, but I’m not complaining. 

The Agatha situation hasn’t gotten any better, I’ve just managed to become a master at hiding from her. She still seeks me out each day and I still continue to hide. The only thing that’s changed is my ability to hide, as now instead of stacks of biscuits I use actual people to hide behind (Penny isn't too pleased with this). 

So the jumpers have been a welcome surprise. 

Every day after school I pull open my drawer, now specifically for all Baz’s jumpers, and pull one over my head to unwind. The warmth and serenity it gives me is an addicting concoction that becomes my only source of clarity. The jumpers allow me to focus on my work and to not worry about Agatha or the hares. 

Baz and I have yet to talk about this arrangement we’ve made: him gifting me his jumpers and me accepting them to keep myself sane. I don’t think we ever will; it’s become another unspoken agreement between the both of us. 

This change in our dynamic feels foreign and precious, almost as if speaking about it will break its wings before it really had the chance to fly. It’s not weird, that word is too negative, but…. It’s different. 

It’s a good different, I think. 

And when Baz’s breathing at night acts as a lullaby for me to fall asleep to, and when I place a jumper underneath my pillow so bergamot and cedar surround me before I close my eyes, they’re just things I add to our new list of “different”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel that we, as a fandom, dont talk about how its canon that simons able to fall asleep better if hes listening to baz breathing. 
> 
> thank you for reading !
> 
> this fic is loosely inspired by the song [sweater weather](https://open.spotify.com/track/2QjOHCTQ1Jl3zawyYOpxh6?si=G8_R6zODTx2QOAwz-5biyA), so the title and chapters are from the lyrics !
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated and make me so very happy :)


	3. Use the Sleeves On My Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> simon makes a mistake and baz believes that this may be how he dies.

**PENELOPE**

Simon’s been different lately. 

I can’t figure out exactly _what_ about him has changed, but he hasn’t been his usual self. I’d like to contribute it to our quest for the hares, or maybe his (unlikely) feelings for Agatha, but something about this change almost feels positive. 

I watch him during meals and whenever we have tea together. His skin's usual golden glow has returned and his eyes are bright again, yet just a few weeks ago he looked frail and sickly. He’s laughing and if it weren’t for him hiding behind me whenever Agatha walks past, you wouldn’t think he’s troubled. 

But I see the way his shoulders tense whenever I mention Agatha. I see the way his eyes grow tired as we discuss where the fifth hare may be, or how red they are after he talks to the Mage. I know how exhausted he’s been these last few weeks. 

I know how tired he’s been ever since he was twelve. 

It’s a relief to see him slowly become better again, as if for once in his life he’s finally been able to rest. Whatever has brought about this change, whatever has given me a glimpse of the golden boy again, I’m thankful. 

As I watch him happily slather butter onto his scones as we wait for our tea to cool, I know that for now he’s as bright as the sun has intended him to be. 

I wish I could keep him this way forever. 

**BAZ**

The first time I caught Simon wearing one of my jumpers was an accident. It was purely coincidental, my body was tired from football and for a while I believed I had imagined the whole ordeal. 

When our arrangement started, I had only seen the remnants of him wearing the jumpers I had laid out. I would only see his messy hair or his flushed cheeks with the clothing in his lap, but never Simon wearing one of my jumpers again. 

I was wrong to think that this wouldn’t happen again. 

Before me, sleeping peacefully in his bed, is Simon snoring softly wearing my favorite white jumper. 

The moonlight seeping through his opened window illuminates Simon’s hair, creating a golden halo around his head and encasing his tawny skin. His arms are wrapped around himself, almost cradling, and for a morbid moment I imagine that this is how he’d look laying in a coffin. 

He’s beautiful. The jumper hugs his body perfectly and its white glow makes him angelic. This is the Chosen One, this boy before me, and he’s everything I cannot have. 

Practice had run later than usual tonight so I went to the catacombs to feed afterwards rather than returning to our room. There’s a book propped against Simon's chest; he must’ve fallen asleep waiting for me to return. A wave of fondness washes over me. 

My body feels heavy from blood and exhaustion and my mind feels a bit hazy. I want to crawl into bed with him and curl around his body until we’re slotted together as one. The base of Simon’s neck is exposed and the urge to bury my face against it is strong. 

I let out a sigh. 

Maybe the jumpers weren't one of my best ideas, but I’ve never been known for being kind to myself. 

Admiring Simon sleeping in my jumper for a moment longer, I force myself to turn around and to walk out of the room. I make sure to close the door loudly and to make as much noise as I possibly can on my way to re-entering the room. 

When I walk in again Simon is sitting up in his bed wide awake, his hair ruffled like usual, and the jumper is off of him. 

“Practice ran late, I see.” Simon greets me. 

I spare him a glance in acknowledgment, nodding my head. 

It’s silent as I collect my sleep clothes for my shower. Neither of us have ever been good with words, let alone with each other. I can feel Simon’s eyes as he watches me move and for a moment I want to bask in his gaze, but I don’t; I walk into the bathroom instead. 

Simon’s laying back down in his bed once I come out. 

His gaze is still on me as I crawl into my bed next to his and wrap myself with my blankets. There’s a cool chill blowing through and my bones are fucking cold. The only warmth I feel is the one provided by the flush of my cheeks due to Simon. 

“Baz, about the jumpers-” 

“Don’t.” My words come out more aggressive than I intended them to. 

Silence falls before us again. I turn my back towards Simon and force myself to close my eyes. We will never talk about our arrangement; it would hurt too much to do so. 

I’m afraid that once it’s acknowledged, it will cease to exist. 

I can’t afford to lose what little of Simon I can manage to grasp. 

**AGATHA**

Simon’s been avoiding me. 

I’m not naive, I know when someone doesn’t want to see me. Especially when that someone makes it so incredibly obvious. 

Whenever I’m around, Simon looks as if I’m about to jump him. I see the way he looks at Penelope to help him. I know he hides behind food during meals so I won’t see him. I know he’d rather make a fool of himself than talk to me. 

I know all of this, but it still stings when I can’t find him in the mornings to chat, or when I see him running from me in the halls. 

“Penelope, do you know why Simon’s avoiding me?” I ask during one of our few study sessions in the library. We’d begun this tradition during our first year, where we spend the day in the library every few months to catch up on work Simon’s missions usually distract us from. 

“Hm?” Penny looks up from the book she’s reading. 

I push my hair behind my ears and look down, pretending to be engrossed with my work. It’s humiliating enough that I’m asking Penny about her best friend (who used to be _my_ best friend), I don’t want her thinking I care more than he does. “I just… Does Simon hate me?” 

I don’t mean to sound so pathetic, my mother would be absolutely ashamed, but by the way Penny closes her book and sits up in her seat I know that I did. I feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment. 

“Simon doesn’t hate you, Agatha. Everyone knows he’s been in love with you since first year.” She says. 

“He has a funny way of showing it.” 

“Look, I know he’s been,” Penny hesitates, clearly trying to find the right word, “weird, lately, but I promise it has nothing to do with you.” 

“It doesn’t feel that way.” I huff. 

“I know, but we’ve both been so focused on finding the fifth hare and now the Mage is gone and everything is just a mess because Simon has been so off lately but then sometimes he’s fine but then other times he looks like Death itself-” 

“Ok, Penelope. I get it.” I cut off her rambling. 

Penny flashes me a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.” 

I nod at her words before an awkward silence falls between us. I try to busy myself with the work before me, ignoring the pitying glances Penny throws my way, but my mind wanders. 

I’ve always known I would end up with Simon. We’ve always been the golden couple, the Chosen One and his prize, but I tried to avoid it. All throughout our first year I pretended to be oblivious to Simon’s advances towards me and his feelings and I was relieved when he eventually got the hint. 

I never wanted to become a trio with Penelope and Simon. I never wanted to risk my life every year or be involved with the Humdrum, but my mother always said that fate chose otherwise for me. 

My parents were so ecstatic when I brought Simon home winter break even though they requested he do so. I remember how proud they were when I told them Simon had become my friend and how Penelope and I were hanging out. 

They were so overjoyed with the idea that I was involving myself within the magickal world. I never had the heart to tell them that it feels like I’ve been floating through my own life. 

I think that’s what frustrates me the most about this whole Simon ordeal. Just when I’ve finally taken my life into my own hands, pursuing a relationship that I know is expected of me but still something I think I’d love, fate has other plans. 

I don’t know why Simon’s acting the way he is right now, but maybe I don’t want to know. Whatever is going on with him is his own issue; he can come to me if he wishes. 

Letting out a breath, I close my book. “Well, I’m quite tired. I think I’m going to skip dinner and go to bed early tonight.” 

“Wait,” Penny jumps out of her seat. “Come have dinner with Simon and me. You haven’t eaten with us in a while, we miss you.” 

I think over the offer for a moment. It’s clearly a pity invite, but I need to talk with Simon anyways. “Ok, I’d like that.” 

“Great!” Penny grins and beings packing up her stuff. 

**SIMON**

Baz’s Watford football jumper has become my favorite to wear, I think. 

Its material feels the same as the school’s uniform and its white lettering against the red fabric is too pretty to not be admired. Whenever I do schoolwork I always catch myself running my fingers over the black embroidered _Basilton Grimm-Pitch_ on the chest of the jumper, right over the heart.

It’s the most soothing jumper to wear, as it smells the most strongly of Baz. 

I pull the jumper over my head as soon as I enter the room. Penelope and I skipped out on our usual afternoon tea together as she had plans with Agatha. We agreed we’d discuss the hares during dinner tonight since Penny believes she may be onto something. 

Truthfully, I’m relieved. I’ve had a headache all day and all I want to do right now is sleep until everything is over. 

I fling myself into bed and curl the neck of the jumper over my chin and allow Baz’s scent to fight away the throbbing in my head. I close my eyes and within a few minutes I’m asleep, falling into a dreamless nap before dinner. 

A knock on my door jolts me awake. 

“Simon?” I hear a voice call out through the door. 

I rub my eyes and get up to open the door to see Gareth before me. “Yeah?” 

“Penelope sent me up to ask if you were coming to dinner. She said it was important you come tonight-” 

_"Fuck_ ,” I stumble out into the hall and push past Gareth to run to dinner, before calling out, “Sorry! Thanks for getting me, Gareth.” 

I don’t see Agatha sitting with Penny until it’s too late. In my haste to get to the dining hall I’m going too fast to process my surroundings until I’m seated in between her and Penelope. 

“Oh,” I say stupidly. 

Penny rolls her eyes at my reaction. “Simon, nice of you to join us.” 

I give her an embarrassed smile, too focused on Agatha’s proximity to me to really pay attention to Penny’s words. My brain is still cloudy from sleep and on the way here I forgot to grab a plate, so I awkwardly begin piling some food onto my napkin. 

Agatha watches me fumble with my makeshift meal. I know she’s waiting for me to acknowledge her presence, but I have half a mind to just ignore her until dinner is over. Penny seems to read my mind, because she clears her throat and nods her head towards Agatha. 

I sigh. 

“Hello, Agatha.” 

“Simon,” 

An awkward silence settles over us and I know Penny would rather be anywhere but here. Agatha turns in her seat to face her meal and I do the same, content to just let the silence do its talking. I see Penny glare at me and I simply shrug. 

I’ll make it up to her later. 

Finally, after several long minutes Agatha speaks again. “Simon, I know things have been weird between us but my father was wondering if you were still spending Christmas at our house-” 

She stops mid sentence and narrows her eyes. I look around us to see what’s gotten her to stop, but then I notice that she’s glancing down at my chest and I feel my heart drop. 

“Are you wearing _Baz’s_ jumper?” Agatha asks. 

“No!” I cover the chest with my hand. 

“It has _Pitch, 61_ on the back.” Penny points out. 

“What, really? Wow, that’s bizarre I could’ve sworn this was my Watford crewneck.” 

Agatha and Penny both stare at me, dumbfounded. I can’t blame them, because I’ve never been known for my lying skills. This is bad 

Today can’t get any worse. 

I don’t think I’ve ever really fucked up this horribly (which is saying something, because I _am_ known for my fuck ups). 

“May I ask how you expect us to believe that?” Agatha’s tone is anything but pleased. 

“I would like to know how you even managed to get your hands on it. I know how Baz is with his clothes.” Says Penny, ignoring the glare Agatha sends her way. 

I don’t know how to answer their questions without explaining everything that’s been going on between Baz and me. How do I explain to them that this arrangement between us has been the one thing keeping me sane? 

Even if I could explain the situation so they’d understand, I’m not quite sure I want to expose this secret to them. It feels too raw, too vulnerable to show to them. This thing between me and Baz, it’s something that I’m afraid might burn if brought into daylight. 

The girls stare at me expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer I won’t give them. When I open my mouth to make up another excuse, I feel warmth begin to spread over the back of my neck. 

I turn behind me and see Baz, his mouth open and his eyes wide, staring at me in bewilderment. 

He’s seen me wearing his jumper. 

Again. 

Well, I was wrong; today _can_ get worse. 

“Simon!” 

I whip my head around back to Agatha, who is clearly pissed that I’ve ignored her again. 

“Look, I have to go.” I’m having terrible deja-vu from the last time Agatha managed to corner me. 

“Are you serious right now?” She exclaims. 

I wince at the anger in her voice, but I manage to fold my food into my napkin and stand up before Penny can force me to stay. 

As I’m hurriedly leaving the dining hall, I glance back one last time to see that Baz hasn’t stopped staring at me. I don’t have time to wonder why I’m so pleased that he’s still watching. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading ! this chapter was fun to write and it was fun writing in agathas and pennys povs as ive never done so before. 
> 
> also this fic is loosely inspired by the song [sweater weather](https://open.spotify.com/track/2QjOHCTQ1Jl3zawyYOpxh6?si=G8_R6zODTx2QOAwz-5biyA), so the title and chapters are from the lyrics ! 
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated and make me so very happy :)


	4. One Love, Two Mouths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> simon finally communicates and baz refuses to believe that this is real.

**BAZ**

“Was that _Snow_ wearing one of your jumpers?” Dev asks me after Simon has left the dining hall. I don’t bother to give him a response, mostly because I’m afraid I’ve lost my ability to speak. 

Niall shakes his head at Dev, setting down his cup of cider. “It can’t have been Baz’s. The bloke’s too pretentious about his clothing to allow someone like Snow to even touch them.” 

“I swore I saw the number 61 on the back of the jumper.” 

“There’s no way. Baz would be throwing a fit right now if it had been his jumper.” 

_Baz is currently busy rebooting his brain right now,_ I think. 

Dev frowns at Niall’s words and leans closer towards him, seemingly forgetting that I’m sat between them. “Snow seemed really upset though, and Agatha looks properly pissed right now. There’s no way that wasn’t Baz’s football jumper.” 

“Well-” 

“If you two imbeciles could kindly remember that _Baz_ is right here and can hear you, that would simply be divine.” I say, cutting Niall off and shoving my shoulders so that he and Dev are forced to move away from me. 

They both give me apologetic smiles and return to their meals, finally giving me the peace and silence I so desperately need right now. 

It takes every ounce of self control within me to not chase after Simon. There’s a million reasons as to why I shouldn’t, the main one being he’s supposed to hate me, but cowardice is what keeps me seated throughout the rest of dinner. 

Dev and Niall don’t say much else as we finish our meals, only occasionally making the usual comments about classes or football practice. They spare me weary glances every now and then, and I realize too late that I never actually denied that the jumper Simon was wearing was indeed mine. 

After dinner the three of us usually head off to the pitch for practice, but my skin is tingling with the anticipation of seeing Simon and making sure he’s ok, so I tell Dev and Niall that I’ll meet up with them later. 

The room is dark when I enter and there’s no sign of Simon, but the smell of his magic is thick. He must’ve gone off when he ran to our room, and my stomach twists into knots. 

Is the idea of being seen in my jumper really that horrifying to Simon? 

I let out a deep exhale and sit down on the edge of my bed. Whatever agreement we had between us has clearly caused more harm than good. All it’s caused is more longing on my side, even if it brought me some pride at first. 

Simon doesn’t return to our room that night (not that I expected him to), and he starts avoiding me more than usual. He averts my eyes in class, he ducks whenever we cross paths in the halls, and he’s almost never in our room anymore. 

I’m not sure where Simon goes anymore to hide, but I do know that he’s stopped wearing my jumpers. 

The few times I do manage to see him within the last few days, he’s never in long enough to wear them and his hair is never staticy anymore. 

I want to ask him why he’s stopped, or why he’s decided that he no longer needs them, but I’m afraid the answer will hurt too much. 

Instead I simply watch as Simon crawls into bed each night, always silent, always facing away from me. I’ll close my eyes and try to remember what he looked like in the dining hall’s warm lighting, wearing my Watford football jumper, looking as painfully lovely as always. 

**SIMON**

Within the span of a month, I’ve successfully managed to corner myself into avoiding practically everyone I have ever known. 

It started with Agatha, then Baz, and now I’m currently crouched behind the pillars in the common room because Penny is looking for me. 

I’m not quite sure how my life has come to this. 

Well, I _do_ know how my life came to this, crouched behind a pillar and anxious beyond all else. 

Agatha started because I can’t stand the idea of hurting the girl I once loved. 

Baz started because I’m not sure I could face him without wanting to reach out and touch his delicate pale skin. 

And now Penny, all because I accidentally wore Baz’s jumper a few nights ago and I know she will badger me for answers. 

Would I even be able to provide the answers she wants? The thought makes another wave of anxiety crash over me and I desperately need Penny to leave the room before my knees give out (the absolute last thing I need happening to me is collapsing in front of the entire year). 

I watch as Penny asks Gareth if he’s seen me before he shakes his head and she huffs. I feel awful seeing her face drop with disappointment and hurt, as she’s always been the one person I’d go to for anything. Up until now, Penelope has always been my lighthouse during my storms. 

This time, however, the only light strong enough for this storm is the moonlight; Baz’s light. Realizing just how much Baz grounds me has become another thing I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about, but I know it has to mean _something._

Finally, Penny disappears from the common room and I’m able to stand up and come out from my hiding spot. Gareth sees me and shoots me a weary look. 

“She’s worried about you.” He says. 

I shake my head. “I know.” 

When I get back to my room, Baz isn’t there and I take the opportunity to pull out the faded blue jumper that he had given me first. I close my drawer and bring the jumper up to my nose to smell the cedar and bergamot, aching to calm the storm within me. 

I had to force myself to stop wearing the jumpers, as I’ve become terrified I’ll make the same mistake as last time. The feelings that grow inside of me whenever I wear them has become one I’m too scared to confront, so I’ve stopped wearing them. 

The smell calms me like it always does, clearing my head of everything bad, and suddenly it occurs to me that this isn’t normal. None of this has been normal. It’s only been a few days since I last wore his jumpers, yet my body’s reaction to the smell is as if I’ve been deprived for centuries. 

I stare at the jumper in my hands as bile rises in my throat. 

_Oh._

I think about the shift between Baz and me. I think about how his moonlight is now a beacon for me to come home to. How his smell is now my source of comfort. How his jumpers are now a home that I’ve never had. How Baz is now the only person I dream of. 

It’s always been him, from the time we were two helpless little boys thrown into a world full of magic, to now as we stumble blindly through it. He’s always been by my side, regardless of his intentions, and he’s always been the constant in my life that has kept me grounded. 

His taunts, his way with words, the way he’s so elegant yet fucking strong during football matches, the way his grey eyes illuminate in the night. I think about all the things I’ve thought about him and collect them into a pile inside my mind. 

I think about how he’s always been the first to help me, even if he denied it afterwards. I think about how I’ve always found his face to be too perfect, that breaking his nose was a way for me to make him more human. I even think about his vampirism and how no matter whether or not I’m right, I’d never be fearful of him. I know he’d always keep me safe. 

It’s always been him. 

I set the blue jumper down and toss on a hat and coat before leaving the room. 

There’s someone I need to talk to. 

**AGATHA**

I’m laying underneath the giant oak tree in the courtyard, enjoying the last few days at Watford before I head home for winter break, when a shadow falls over me. 

I open my eyes to see Simon standing before me, looking ridiculous in his bright red winter coat and an oversized knitted hat he stole from Ebb. The winter sun catches on his golden hair and makes him look more like the Chosen One I know he’ll be one day, yet his baby blue mittens say otherwise. 

I can’t help but smile at him. 

Simon returns the smile. “Hey, Aggy.” 

_Aggy_ , he hasn’t called me that in so long. A warm feeling spreads through my body and the nickname feels like a peace offering that I gladly accept. 

“Hello, Si. Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to join me down here and enjoy the last few rays of sunlight before the snow comes?” 

Simon laughs softly before joining me on the ground, laying down so that we’re shoulder to shoulder. I can feel his body heat even though we’re several inches apart, but it doesn’t surprise me. He’s always been a source of warmth. 

We’re silent for several long moments, the both of us just listening to the birds in the tree above us and admiring the pretty frost creeping over its branches. I close my eyes again and absorb the peacefulness between us, cherishing what little time I get to spend alone with Simon. 

After nearly half an hour, Simon finally speaks up. “I need to ask you something.” 

Opening my eyes once more, I turn my head to face him and quirk an eyebrow up at him. “ _You_ have to ask _me_ something?” 

Simon laughs at the irony before us. “Funny, isn’t it?” 

I nod at him, burying my chin into my pink winter coat and I tug my earmuffs securely over my ears once more. It’s getting late and the cold is starting to become more painful than soothing. 

“How did you know you liked me?” 

I stare at him, noting the use of past tense rather than present, and blink at him questioningly. 

“I mean…” Simon sighs, “we both know you don’t like me. Maybe you did at one point, but you don’t anymore.” 

No one really gives Simon credit for how perceptive he is. He may never be the one to solve the problem first, but he’ll always be the first to see the cracks within it. 

“Why are you asking me this, Simon?” 

Simon turns his head away from me, “Aggy-” 

“Whatever you have to tell me, please just do it. I promise you I won’t get upset.” I cut him off. 

He lets out a deep exhale and starts fidgeting with his mittens. It’s rare to see him so unsure of himself when he’s alone with his friends. This vulnerability before me is a startling one to see, and suddenly it all makes sense. 

His obsession with Baz, the constant need to talk about the boy and to follow the boy wherever he goes, wearing Baz’s jumpers all of a sudden. 

“It’s Baz, isn’t it?” 

Simon’s head whips towards me and his eyes are wide. “You knew?” 

I shrug my shoulders. “Not until a few seconds ago, to be honest.” 

Snowflakes begin to gently fall from the sky, and a few get tangled in Simon’s hair and dot the freckles along his cheeks. I watch as they slowly melt against his warm skin and wait patiently for his response. 

“I didn’t even realize it until twenty minutes ago.” He confesses. 

I burst out laughing and soon enough Simon joins in so that we’re just two kids giggling in the snow. Of course Simon was too dense to realize his feelings for Baz, I’m surprised he really realized them in the first place. 

We giggle quietly to ourselves for a moment, taking in this bizarre turn of events, before Simon eventually speaks up again. “You don’t hate me, right?” 

“I could never hate you.” 

“Even though I basically ignored you for a month and fell in love with a bloke?” 

The last part of Simon’s question makes the smile disappear from my face; the silly atmosphere we had is now gone and everything feels serious all of a sudden. 

I sit up to properly look at him. “Never, Simon. I understand why you ignored me and you fancying Baz doesn’t change anything.” 

Simon gazes up at me, his expression pained. His nose has begun to turn red due to the cold and all I want to do is lay my palms against his cheeks and provide warmth and comfort to ease his troubles. Every day I’m reminded that he never asked for any of this, none of us did. 

“Thank you, Agatha.” 

“Always, my dear.” I smile down at him, and he smiles back. 

We let the snow fall around us once more, memorizing every last ounce of this moment as the sun steadily begins to set. I know we have to go in soon, as dinner will be happening shortly, but for now we sit together underneath the oak tree. 

Once it’s time to go in, we stand up and brush the snow off of ourselves and Simon rubs his hands together to heat them up. I mimic his actions as we begin to walk inside, bringing my icy fingers back to their normal temperature. 

As we’re walking, Simon suddenly stops and faces me before asking, “What _were_ you trying to ask me for the past month?” 

“Oh,” I let out a soft chuckle, “I was going to ask you if you were coming to my house for break, but I think it’s safe to assume you’ll stay here.” 

Simon gives me a questioning look, clearly confused as to why I’d think he’d stay. 

I roll my eyes at him. “I heard Baz is staying at Watford.” 

His eyes go wide once more and an unattractive snort leaves my mouth. I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment, but soon enough Simon is laughing and we’re walking up to our table where Penny is sitting, giggling like drunken fools. 

“You’re laughing together?” Penelope asks, shocked. 

Simon and I look at each other and his eyes are so full of light and joy. 

“We’re best friends, Pen. Why wouldn’t we be?” I shrug. 

Penny looks between the two of us, probably trying to figure out if this is a trap, before simply nodding her head. 

“Good. I was beginning to fear that I was down to only one friend, and that would just be pitiful.” 

We all laugh. 

**SIMON**

During dinner I filled Penny in on everything. I told her why I avoided Agatha for so long, how I started wearing Baz’s jumpers, and finally about my newfound feelings for him. 

She wasn’t really surprised by any of it, and was more confused that Baz was willing to share his clothes with me rather than the fact that I liked him. 

“I mean, _honestly_ Simon, I love you. I really do, but I would never let you borrow my clothes.” 

It felt good finally telling Penny everything and to finally have Agatha back by my side. We’ve always been the golden trio, the three of us against the world, so having them at a distance felt foreign to me. 

Soon we all fell into place again, walking to classes together and sitting together for tea as we all discussed the fifth hare. We’ve spent the last few days before break as one unbreakable group, never straying too far from the other, always a solid unit. 

Their near constant presence has almost been enough to make me forget about the Baz situation. When I’m with them I don’t think about Baz and his smile, or how he always manages to look so put together even after just waking up. I forget about the butterflies in my stomach whenever I hear his name, and I forget that there’s no possible way he’d like me back. 

Then when they leave and I head up to my room, I remember. 

I always walk in to see Baz either at his desk or in his bed, ignoring me and acting as if the mere thought of me disgusts him. Each and every time it’s like a punch in the face, seeing Baz being so repulsed by me. 

I’m not sure what I’ll do when break comes and Agatha and Penelope leave me behind to go home. If I didn’t have plans to find the fifth hare, I’d ask them to bring me along. 

But I can’t, and tomorrow is the last day before they’re gone. 

I’ll be alone with the boy I’m in love with. 

It'd be a dream come true, if he could stand to look at me. 

**BAZ**

Simon and I are practically the only ones at Watford. 

There’s a handful of other students who chose to stay behind as well, but we’re the only ones in our year. I’ve never spent the holidays at Watford, so the emptiness of the school is ominous. It makes everything feel colder, more distant than they should be. 

The emptiness of the school has served Simon well, though. He’s used it to his advantage, avoiding me all while looking in every nook and cranny for the fifth hare. He was rarely in our room prior to break, but now he’s only in it to sleep. 

I miss him, as pathetic as that sounds. I may not have ever really had him, but our jumper arrangement had been something I cherished and held onto as a sign that there was _something_ between us. 

I’ve never been right, though. 

Waking up on Christmas Eve alone in our room hurt more than it should’ve. I glance at the makeshift Christmas tree we have in the corner of our room, something that Simon insisted on having back in second year, and the presents my father sent over look pathetic underneath it. 

I let out a sigh and push the covers off of me, getting out of bed to do whatever mindless tasks I can think of. There’s hardly anything to do at Watford when no one’s around, so for the last week I’ve been doing nothing but mind numbingly boring activities. 

I spend the day wandering around the school, avoiding going outside where it’s cold and snow has covered every inch of land. A few professors have stayed behind as well, so I occasionally stop by every once and a while to chat with them. 

Before I know it, dinner has passed and I’m alone in my room. I’ve spent another entire day without any trace of Simon; the thought makes me feel small and insignificant. 

Deciding to not wallow in self pity, I take out my violin because I need a distraction and I’ve already done nothing productive today anyways. 

My fingers find their positions on top of the strings and my chin goes into its designated groove, and I play the song, Experience by Ludovico Einaudi, that Daphne has requested I learn. The song is simple enough, but its emotion has been something I’ve struggled to convey. 

The song is painfully raw and vulnerable, two things I’ve never allowed myself to be, which is why I struggle with it. I inhale deeply and close my eyes before carefully placing my bow onto the strings to begin the song. 

Music begins to swirl around me and I can’t help but think of Simon and all that I will never have with him. There’s a tight feeling in my chest, an ache that’s been there ever since I realized I loved him, and the notes from my violin begin to mimic the feelings inside of me. 

In the middle of the song, when the chords reach their peak and the music begins stumbling over itself as the emotions within it crashes against the notes, the door opens. 

I spin around to see Simon standing awkwardly in the doorway, seemingly surprised to have found me playing in the middle of the room. We stare at each other for a moment, unsure of what the other will do. It’s too early for Simon to be back already, as he often comes in late at night rather than after dinner. 

This is the longest we’ve looked at each other without one of us being asleep, and I think Simon realizes this too. He clears his throat awkwardly before saying, “I liked the song you were playing.” 

I let the violin drop from my shoulder and rest against my side and flick the hair out of my face. “My stepmother, Daphne, likes it as well.” 

I don’t know why I tell Simon this, but he seems to think of it as an offering, something he can latch onto in order to keep talking to me. 

“It’s very pretty,” he hesitates before continuing, “You play very well.” 

He’s never complimented me on anything before. The atmosphere around us is almost suffocatingly different, and the shift that was between us when Simon wore my jumpers is back again. Its familiarity is almost comforting. 

“Thank you,” I say. 

Simon nods. “You’re welcome.” 

It’s awkward between us again as we both fall silent, unsure of what to say to each other. There’s so much that I want to say, but I know I can’t. If I told Simon even a fraction of what’s inside my mind, he’d have to kill me. 

I watch Simon shuffle around the doorway, clearly at a loss for what to do. It’s pitiful, the way his shoulders hunch around him and his eyes never meet mine again. I know I must not look any better, and I hate that. 

“Well, I only came in here to grab my jumper. I didn’t think you’d be in here since I saw you walking around the common room earlier so-” 

My hand reaches up to grab the sleeve of Simon’s shirt to stop him from leaving before I realize what I’m doing. He looks down from my hand to his sleeve, obviously trying to figure out why I’m willingly touching him. 

“Wait,” I say, “please. You can wear one of my jumpers.” 

Simon’s breath hitches and my cheeks feel like they’re on fucking fire. 

“Baz-” 

I’m weak. 

I’m so fucking weak. 

“Please, Simon. Wear one of my jumpers.” 

“ _Baz,_ you know I can’t. The arrangement we had, it wasn’t good for me.” 

Disappointment grips at my throat and makes it hard to swallow down the tears that want to come. I realize I’m still holding onto Simon, but I refuse to let go. I just… He can’t leave me again, and all the resentment that’s been building up over the last few weeks suddenly comes spilling out. 

“And why is that? Is the Chosen One not allowed to wear something from the Pitches?” I snarl. 

Simon looks at me, and his eyes look teary and all I want to do is tug him forward and hold on. “You know that’s not why.” 

I pull Simon closer, bringing his face inches away from mine. I can feel his breath against my face, making everything more difficult. “Then _tell me why_ you stopped wearing my jumpers.” 

“Baz, I can’t-” 

“ _Tell me Simon._ ” 

“ _Because I’m in love with you._ ” Simon exclaims. 

Everything goes still. 

Simon looks absolutely mortified and it’s clear that he hadn’t meant to tell me this. Was he ever going to? 

I don’t know what to think anymore. 

I know I want to kiss him right now. 

Simon’s staring at me, his face is so open and terrified right now and I realize that my silence may be alarming. 

“Simon…” My voice cracks. 

There’s an energy surrounding us, something electric and dangerous and alluring. The air has changed and more than anything all I want to do is kiss him, but this can’t be real. 

This isn’t real. 

But Simon’s head gently bumps against mine, and my hand has somehow found his, and his nose nestles my cheek. 

Then suddenly _he’s_ kissing _me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading ! i adored writing this chapter, especially the scene between agatha and simon. i think their connection is so lovely. 
> 
> the song baz plays is [experience](https://open.spotify.com/track/1BncfTJAWxrsxyT9culBrj?si=33gIZp9tSuKxAO47E2sfcg) by ludovico einaudi, which is an extremely beautiful song if you would like to listen to it !
> 
> also this fic is loosely inspired by the song [sweater weather](https://open.spotify.com/track/2QjOHCTQ1Jl3zawyYOpxh6?si=G8_R6zODTx2QOAwz-5biyA), so the title and chapters are from the lyrics !
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated and make me so very happy :)


	5. One Love, One House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> simon sets things straight and baz has never been so in love.

**SIMON**

I’m kissing a boy. 

I’m kissing a Grimm-Pitch. 

I’m kissing _Baz._

And he’s kissing me back. 

Crowley, it’s Christmas Eve and I’m kissing the boy that I love, and _he’s kissing me back._

His lips are softer than I thought they’d be, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s always been so dedicated to his appearance, always using the most expensive soaps and hair gels to make sure he was the most handsome in the room. 

He always was the most handsome, always the one to catch your attention and make sure your focus was solely on him. It’s what I found the most infuriating about Baz, but now I realize the anger was just want. 

I’ve never kissed anyone before, so I hope this is a good kiss. 

**BAZ**

Fuck everything, how does Simon kiss so bloody well? 

**SIMON**

Baz brings his hands up to my face, cupping my cheeks and kissing me harder than I thought was possible. 

He pulls me closer as if he’s afraid that I’ll slip through his fingers and disappear. I grab his wrists and try to convey all that I’m thinking, all that I’m feeling. 

_I’m right here, I won’t go anywhere. I’ve got you right where I want you, and I won’t let you get away from me again._

I tug at his wrists once more, and Baz seems to understand, so he lessens his hold on my face and begins to caress the apples of my cheek. I feel myself melt at the touch and I sigh into his mouth, absolutely smitten. 

Slowly, I move one hand from Baz’s wrists to his hair, allowing my fingers to comb through the long strands and break apart the gel he applied earlier, and I move the other hand to the back of his neck. I play with the skin, tenderly stroking my fingers back and forth against the little dip in his neck, and I feel Baz shudder. 

I smile. 

**BAZ**

The fucker is _smiling_

He’s killing me and he’s smiling, enjoying every last second torturing me with his touch and his kisses. 

This has to be a purgatory. I refuse to believe otherwise. 

**SIMON**

We stumble onto my bed, a tangle of limbs and hands, and somehow Baz is beneath me. I break the kiss to look down at him, grazing my nose across his cheek, and I feel so full of light in this very moment. 

“You could look less pleased, you know.” 

I snort at Baz’s words and shake my head. “I’ve always been beneath you; let me enjoy this.” 

Baz rolls his eyes, and I feel more than see him huff. I know he isn’t really annoyed with me, in fact I know he’s the exact opposite right now. Looking at him it’s clear, even in the dim room lighting, that Baz is as happy as he could possibly be. 

There’s a flush across his cheeks, stark against his pale skin, and his eyes are glistening. His lips are a deep red, swollen and angry, and it sends a jolt down to my stomach. I did that to him. I’m the reason for his lips and his happy eyes. 

Baz opens his mouth to make another smart comment, but I kiss him before he can. He has all the time in the world to be an arse, right now all I want to do is kiss him until we’re flying above it all. 

**BAZ**

We kiss until we physically can’t anymore. 

As it nears three in the morning, our kisses become slower and more sleepy. I feel drunk with kisses, my body heavy and warm. When Simon begins to sleep more than kiss me, I gently nudge him. 

“It’s late, let’s go to bed, love.” I whisper. 

Simon blinks, his expression dazed and delirious, before nodding and tightening his arms around me. He uses the crook of my neck as his own personal pillow, and I’m too in love with him to begrudge the fact that his hair is in my face. 

I let Simon’s weight serve as a blanket, feeling secure in his embrace, and join him in sleep. 

The next morning I wake up to an empty bed. 

Simon isn’t next to me or in our room, and for a horrifying moment I think that last night was all a dream. A horrible, disgustingly realistic dream. However, in the midst of my panic I realize that I’m in Simon’s bed and that there’s no other way to explain this without the events from last night. 

I close my eyes and will my brain to shut off, trying to fight away the growing anxiety within my chest. Simon Snow may be a dream, but last night wasn’t. 

The door to our room opens quietly, and I open my eyes to see Simon carrying a plate stacked full of baked goods. I watch him try to carefully balance the plate with one hand as he tries to shut the door as softly as he can. 

I smile, realizing that he’s trying not to wake me. 

“Good morning,” I say. 

Simon nearly jumps out of his skin, only just barely managing to catch a scone that has fallen off the plate due to his fright. 

“You prick, I could’ve dropped the whole plate!” 

I roll onto my side to face Simon, who works his way over to the bed and sets the plate on his night stand. “Serves you right for leaving me alone.” 

Simon gestures for me to move over so he can sit down on the bed, and I comply. We situate ourselves so that he’s sitting up against the headboard and I’m resting on my side with my elbow propping me up. Simon grabs the plate from the night stand and places it between us. 

“Sorry for wanting to bring you breakfast in bed. Next time I’ll let you starve.” 

“Next time?” 

“Yes, why wouldn’t there be a next time?” Simon furrows his brows, before adding, “Merry Christmas, by the way.” 

He grabs a cherry scone from the plate and stuffs the whole thing into his mouth. I scoff at his horrible manners, thankful that we’re on his bed and not mine as I watch the crumbs scatter across the pillows. 

I grab a scone as well, trying to decide what I want to do next. “I don’t know… _Will_ there be a next time?” 

“Well, I hope so. You’re a good kisser.” Simon says with a mouthful of scones. 

Warmth spreads across my face at Simon’s blunt comment. How can he be so casual about all of this? It’s unfair that he’s able to say these things without feeling so exposed and raw. 

I let silence be my response to Simon, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s happily scarfing down the scones before him, content to eat with me watching him. 

Eventually though, he seems to notice that I haven’t touched the food yet. “Hey, aren’t you going to eat? Breakfast in bed won’t work if you don’t eat.” 

My hand clenches around the scone I’ve been holding, and suddenly the easy-going atmosphere between us is gone. I can’t eat in front of Simon, I haven’t ever eaten in front of anyone. We may have snogged until we passed out last night, but that doesn’t mean I can reveal my vampirism to him. 

I’m not even sure what Simon and I are, anyways. Enemies? Boyfriends? Enemies who occasionally snog late at night on Christmas Eve? 

“I’m not hungry.” I tell him. 

Simon sets his scone down. “Bullshit, you haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.” 

He’s staring down at me with so much focus and concern that it makes my skin crawl. I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to do at this moment, but Simon’s waiting for me to give him an answer. There’s so much that I want to say, so many questions that I have, that the words build up inside of me and threaten to spill out. 

Before I can help it, I find myself asking, “What are we doing?” 

Simon gives me a confused look. “Eating breakfast in bed?” 

“No, I mean what is _this?_ ” I gesture to the both of us, side by side, in Simon’s bed. 

He frowns once more, seemingly not understanding what I’m trying to ask. 

“Simon, what are we doing? The jumpers were one thing, they were something I could ignore, but the kissing? Breakfast in bed? It’s not something we do, this isn’t how we are.” I can’t look at Simon as I’m saying all of this. 

Simon sighs. “Oh,” 

So it seems that he doesn’t know what we are, either. 

Lovely. 

**SIMON**

Baz’s question throws me off. 

What _are_ we? 

I mean I’ve only had a week to process my feelings for him, and within that timespan all I could think about was kissing him. I didn’t think about what would come after (mostly because I didn’t think I’d ever kiss Baz). 

Are we together now? I guess Penny would say that we are, but maybe she’d also say that we’re rushing into things too quickly. I know that us being together would cause issues, I’m not that naive, but couldn’t we work past them? 

Baz is looking at me and I’m startled to see how open it is, how unguarded his face is right now. Seeing how vulnerable Baz is trusting to be with me is enough to push away the anxiety I’m feeling. 

“I want us to be together.” I tell Baz. 

His eyebrows shoot up, clearly shocked. 

“And how do you expect us to do that?” 

“‘Dunno,” I shrug my shoulders, “snog a lot and hold hands?” 

An exasperated laugh escapes Baz’s lips, and he quickly covers it up with a scoff. “Please, as if it were that easy.” 

“Why can’t it be? What’s stopping us?” 

“Hm, let’s see,” Baz holds up his hand and begins listing things off with his fingers. “The Mage, the fact that I’m a Pitch and you’re the Chosen One, our nearly decade long rivalry, your destined relationship with Wellbelove. Shall I continue?” 

I let everything Baz has said sink in for a moment, processing his words and turning them over and over inside my head. Even though some of his reasons are dumb, there’s some that I know he’s right about. 

I take a deep breath. “The Mage wants me to be happy, so why would he be upset if you make me the happiest I’ve ever been?” 

Baz’s breath hitches, but I continue. 

“And we both know that you place no value on your family name, just like I place no value on being the Chosen One. Yes, you’re a Pitch, but you’re your mother. You’re everything I know she was; you’re nothing like the Old Families and I know you hate how they are.” 

“Simon-” 

“Let me finish.” 

Baz nods. 

I carry on. “ _You’ve_ always hated _me,_ it was never the other way around. I’ve always admired you from afar, even when you were the cruelest you’ve ever been to me. You’re wickedly powerful, both magic wise and socially. You’re someone to be admired, Baz.” 

I reach out to stroke his cheek, careful and tender as always; I can’t help but touch him. 

“No one’s ever told me that before.” His confession hurts me in ways I didn’t know I could ache. 

“I’ll fix that, I promise.” 

Baz smiles up at me, a soft smile I know is now only reserved for me, before it suddenly disappears. “What about Agatha? The whole school watched you two dance around each other the last few months. She was practically chasing after you in the hallways.” 

I laugh. “We talked things out and realized how dumb I was. We don’t like each other, Baz. In fact, she was the first person I told my feelings for you to.” 

This surprises Baz, which makes me laugh again. 

We’re silent for a few moments, I know Baz needs time to think about all that I’ve said. I let him think, content with simply playing with his hair and smoothing my thumb over his cheekbones in a rhythmic pattern. 

After a minute or so Baz speaks up again. “So this, _we,_ are real?” 

“ _Yes,_ ” I breathe out. I know exactly what he means, I can hear the hidden questions and permissions behind the simple question. 

“How can you be so sure when we both know the secret I’m hiding?” 

I shake my head at Baz. “I don’t care, and you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. You’re just… You’re Baz.” 

And with my response, Baz swiftly moves the plate that’s been between us and tackles me back down onto the pillows. 

Now he’s on top of me and he’s staring down at me as if I’m the sun and all of its glory. His eyes are so warm, and in the soft morning light he looks like a prince. I admire his beauty for a moment before my eyes drift towards the window, spotting snow dancing across the sky. 

“It’s snowing on Christmas day!” 

Baz starts at my sudden exclamation, falling onto me with a soft thud. I burst into laughter, grabbing at his sides to keep him from falling completely off of the bed. He shoots me a dirty look. 

“Sure, go ahead and knock your boyfriend off the bed.” 

_Boyfriend._

I pout. “I’m sorry, please forgive me.” 

“Fine, but only because I really want to kiss you some more.” 

**BAZ**

I’m not sure how Simon has managed to rope me into it, but standing in three feet of snow wearing nothing but a simple winter coat and trackies isn’t how I imagined spending Christmas day. 

“C’mon Baz, ust one snowball fight and then we can go back inside, I promise!” 

Simon’s standing a few feet away from me, happy as can be, somehow completely unaffected by how fucking cold it is out in the courtyard. 

“Snow, I can feel my bollocks freezing off.” 

“Oh don’t be such a baby, you’re fine.” 

I’m about to complain some more when a snowball comes hurtling towards my face. I manage to duck it before it hits me (vampire reflexes have never been more useful), but in the process of ducking I lose my footing and fall into the snow. 

Fucking fantastic. 

I hear Simon howling with laughter as I struggle to get back up, because of course I’m the only one standing on top of an icy patch of grass. 

“You look ridiculous!” Simon calls out. 

I ignore him and instead pull out my wand. “Some like it hot!” 

The snow and ice around me immediately melts away and I’m able to stand back up. Once I’m up, I glance up at Simon and see that he’s scowling at me for using magic. He’s a fool for thinking I wouldn’t use magic to avoid looking pathetic. He should know me better by now. 

“That's not fair.” 

I shrug at him, carefully making my way over towards him so that we’re face to face once more. “You never set any rules, love.” 

_Love_ was something my father called my mother. It’s one of the few things I can remember about their relationship before she died. I never thought I’d use it myself, but it feels right calling Simon that term of endearment. 

It fits him perfectly, _love_

Simon smiles at the name and I kiss both of his cheeks. 

Crowley, I’m so incredibly happy right now. 

I see Simon shivering slightly against the bitter December wind, so I wrap my arms around him and he hooks his head against my neck. His warm breath tickles against the cold skin and we sway gently, interlocked and as physically close as we can possibly be. 

“Cedar and bergamot.” I hear Simon mumble. 

“What was that?” 

Simon pulls away just enough so that he can look at me. “Cedar and bergamot, that’s the smell I fell in love with.” 

My heart swells at his words. I didn’t think it was possible to be so full of love. 

“And here I thought it was my dashing good looks.” I joke. 

He laughs and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “Your good looks helped.” 

I stick my tongue out in response and Simon laughs again before tucking his head back into my neck. We stand in the snow for a while, our combined body heat creating enough warmth to fight against the cold’s bite. 

“Hey, Baz?” Simon asks after a while. 

I’m in such a peaceful state of mind that I almost don’t hear him. “Hm?” 

“Does this mean I can wear your clothes whenever?” 

I immediately push Simon away and grab him by the shoulders so that he’s looking me in the eye. “Absolutely not.” 

Simon groans. “What is it with you and Penny and your clothes?” 

“What can I say? Bunce and I are too smart to allow you free rein over our clothes. That’s like letting a toddler rule a household.” 

“It is not!” 

“It is, love.” 

“Fine, but I’m stealing your jumpers whenever I want. Deal?” 

Simon looks so determined, so absolute about his declaration, and I don’t have the heart to tell him no. 

Besides, why would I ever _want_ to say no to Simon Snow wearing my jumpers? 

“Deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thats it !!
> 
> first i just wanna say merry christmas (to those who celebrate) and obviously happy holidays to all. i hope yall are safe and cozy this winter spending quality time with loved ones. 
> 
> thank you so so so much for reading, i really hope you guys enjoyed this series. i absolutely fell back in love with these characters as i was writing them, and im so happy with how this fic turned out. 
> 
> if you enjoyed this fic, i have some other snowbaz stuff and a couple other works for aftg, so feel free to check those out. if you want to find me, im jostens-pitch on tumblr <3
> 
> also this fic was loosely inspired by the song [sweater weather](https://open.spotify.com/track/2QjOHCTQ1Jl3zawyYOpxh6?si=G8_R6zODTx2QOAwz-5biyA), so the title and chapters are from the lyrics !
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated and make me so very happy :)


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